


The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through Maui

by violue



Series: Cupcakes and Chlamydia [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Food, M/M, Oral Sex, Past minor character death, Rimming, Sex Toys, Shower Sex, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vacation, Wedding Fluff, creepy background pairing with incesty vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's ready to be married to Castiel, he's ready to go to Hawaii for ten days, but he's not ready for this wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a stand alone, it references the main story _and_ the two timestamps, just FYI.
> 
> Thank you so much to [Kris](http://kelisab.tumblr.com/) and [Dani](http://warkitt3nz.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing!
> 
> ps: I've never been to Maui, but it sounds lovely...

 

 

****(Saturday, September 3rd 2016)** **

 

 

No matter how many times Dean finds himself at the Adler Estate, he never stops feeling like a tiny, filthy, insignificant speck of a man at the sight of it. It’s large, it’s pristine, it has a _staff,_ and it has a guest house bigger than the home Dean grew up in. On the plus side, it also has a beautiful and spacious backyard that is _perfect_ for a wedding.

Naomi Adler, in her quest to win back the love of her children, had decided that she would be hosting and paying for the wedding, in addition to Dean and Castiel’s honeymoon.

At first, Dean had thought it was awesome. A _free_ wedding? A free trip to fucking _Hawaii_? Sign Dean the fuck up. Castiel had thought Dean might be too prideful to accept the offer, but if Dean doesn’t have to kick off his married life with thousands of dollars in debt, Dean doesn’t give a flying fuck about pride. More money for them to spend on souvenirs in Hawaii.

Okay, fine. Maybe he cares a little about pride. Maybe Sam had to give Dean a big lecture about free weddings and accepting gifts and not starting his marriage with a bunch of extra debt. But Dean’s on board now.

There was just one thing Dean hadn’t counted on. A wedding funded by Naomi Adler, as it turns out, means a wedding _planned_ by Naomi Adler. Dean’s plans for a simple, intimate, extremely well-catered wedding? Well, those plans shifted.

There are over a hundred fucking people coming to Dean’s wedding. Dean doesn’t even _know_ a hundred people. Naomi invited relatives, co-workers, fellow parishioners… pretty much anyone willing to attend a wedding with two grooms and no bride. When she decided the fifteen or so people Dean had planned on inviting weren’t enough, she went digging into Dean’s life to find even _more_ people to invite. People like Dean’s cousins that he hasn’t spoken to in years. People he knew in high school. She invited _three_ of Dean’s ex-girlfriends, and they fucking RSVP’d. Cassie Robinson, _Lisa,_ and unstable-as-fuck Josie Sands, who still goes by Abaddon.

Dean’s going to get married in front of the woman that _keyed his car._

When he’d pulled Castiel aside, demanding to know how he could be so calm, Castiel had smiled and said “I don’t care who comes to our wedding, Dean. Ten people or a hundred people, as long as you’re one of them, I’m happy.”

Since then, Dean has tried to emulate Castiel’s serenity and keep his eyes on the prize, so to speak. It’s hard though, when he finds out that his wedding is going to have a _harpist._ And when he finds out Castiel is letting Ion come to the wedding. And when he finds out his best man is laid up with antibiotic-induced diarrhea.

It’s fine, though. Really. Even though Dean got to the estate and saw Abaddon in a backless, _white_ gown with a ridiculously high slit up the side, and no one can find Castiel’s great aunt, and Dean’s father is walking over looking like he wants to have a heart-to-heart… it’s fine. Dean’s still going to Hawaii with the love of his life tomorrow, whether this wedding goes smoothly or not.

Bring. It. On.

  


  


*

  


  


“Hey, kid.”

Dean’s near the edge of the Adler property, idly wondering how many gardeners it takes to keep acres of hedges alive and perfectly trimmed, when his father finally approaches.

“Hi,” he says.

Aside from Dean dropping by with a last-minute wedding invite, this is the first time they’ve really talked in a long fucking time. At a certain point, Dean had come to realize that his disinterest in patching things up with John had become less about needing time to heal, and more about Dean just kind of wanting to punish his father. So, John had gotten an invite, and apparently he’s not wasting his opportunity.

John reaches into the inside pocket of his suit, pulling out a thin flask.

“That Bobby’s flask?” Dean says.

“Yeah, he thought I’d maybe need a drink.”

“What, to watch your son get married to a guy?” Dean says bitterly.

John nods, looking ashamed. “I don’t though.”

“No?”

“Therapy was about learning to accept you, and who you choose—” John pauses, looking frustrated, “who you _happen_ to love. I figure if I gotta be drunk, I’m not being all that accepting. You, on the other hand,” John says, holding the flask out, “seem like maybe you could use something to take the edge off.”

“I’m fine,” Dean says, but he takes the flask and has a long, long drink before handing it back.

“I hated my wedding, you know. Hated it.”

Dean’s surprised. “Yeah?”

“All I wanted was to go down to city hall, marry your mom, and start our lives together. But your momma…” John sighs, shaking his head with a smile. “She had a lot of big, _expensive_ plans that she’d been dreaming about since she was a teenager. There was a violinist, and doves, and flowers all over every damn thing.”

Dean snorts. He’s seen the wedding pictures. His mom had looked positively radiant, and John had looked… proud.

“How’d you get through it? It’s a damn circus in there, Dad. I don’t know most of those people. _Cas_ doesn’t know most of those people. I’ve gotta say _vows_ in front of them, then spend God knows how long mingling at the reception.”

“Your mom found me pacing back and forth in the church parking lot. She was all trussed up, holding her dress so the hem didn’t touch the ground.”

“Thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

“Well, seeing as we’ve been married over thirty years, I’m gonna guess that that’s superstitious bullshit.”

Dean nods. He’s never really believed that anyway, not after watching Sam and Jess all gussied up for their wedding and playing poker while they waited for Jess’ parents to get out of a traffic jam.

“So, Mom found you. How’d she get you to chill out?”

“Sex.”

Oh, Jesus. “What?”

“We had sex in the basement of the church,” John says. “ _Really_ calmed me down.”

Dean’s never going to be able to look at those wedding pictures again. “Jesus, Dad!”

“I’m just telling you what worked for me, and letting you know that you’ve got…” John looks at his watch. “You’ve got fifty-seven minutes until the ceremony starts.”

“You’re seriously suggesting I go fuck my fiance?”

John looks at his watch again. “Fifty- _six_ minutes.”

Dean stares at John for a long moment, and then he takes off running toward the house.

  


 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you sure this is what your father told you to do?”

“Jesus, Cas, can we not talk about my _dad_ right now?!”

They’re sprawled out on a bed, and Castiel’s three fingers deep in Dean, leaving a trail of nips and bites along his chest. Dean doesn’t know whose bed this is, and he doesn’t want to know. Whoever owns this bed also owns the mango-scented massage oil that they stole out of the nightstand, and Dean will be happier not knowing which Adler sibling that is.

Their suits are nearby, carefully laid out on the floor by Castiel, and there’s already a ton of massage oil on the expensive looking duvet Dean’s lying on.

“We’re making a mess of this blanket, man,” Dean says.

“It’s fine, Abner will take care of it.”

Right. Abner. One of the fifty million people on staff at this place. Dean’s hips jerk and he lets out a gasp when Castiel’s teeth find their way to his nipple, teeth tugging at the nub.

“You make the sweetest sounds, beloved.”

Castiel loves calling him that these days. A vast improvement from “Kitten”, in Dean’s opinion. It slipped out a few times at first, then it became a more regular thing. It’s hard for him to admit it, but Dean fucking loves it. There’s something warm and maybe a little possessive in Castiel’s voice every single time he says it. Fuck, Dean loves this guy.

A slow, pleased smile spreads over Castiel’s face. “I love you too, Dean.”

Huh. Dean said that out loud. Well, whatever. He loves Castiel, and his very-soon-to-be husband deserves to hear it every day. He pulls Castiel down into a kiss and then gets onto his hands and knees.

“Alright, we’ve got twenty more minutes before the wedding. Fuck me, Cas.”

Castiel chuckles as he gets into position, palms skimming over Dean’s backside. “They’re not going to start without us, Dean.”

“They might come looking.”

“No one would look for us _here_.”

Oh God, this must be Ion’s bedroom, then. Nope. _Nope._ Dean’s not thinking about that. He’s going to think about Castiel’s hands holding him in place, and the dense pressure at his hole as Castiel’s thick cock works its way inside Dean’s ass. And just like that, they’re off to the races. Castiel fucks Dean hard, fast, and while most of Dean’s brain cells are focused on staying upright and not moaning too loud, he has a few to spare on the thought that he’ll never be able to smell mangoes again without getting hard.

“Cas,” Dean moans, “Cas, Cas, _yeah,_ Cas.” Dean puts his weight on his left arm so his right hand is free to work his cock. He’d love to savor this, drag it out, but they really don’t have the time. They need to get dressed. They need to fix Castiel’s hair. They probably need to spot clean with a washcloth. But first, they need to _come._

It’s at that moment, while Dean’s stroking himself and making a mental checklist that he hears it; shuffling footsteps in the hall.

“Cas. _Cas_. Did you lock the—” The doorknob turns, and they both freeze. For the first time Dean finds himself _hoping_ it’s Sam walking in on them fucking.

It’s not Sam, and Dean doesn’t even have a moment to wince at the sensation of Castiel abruptly pulling out, because when they spin around to face the door, it’s _Ion_ standing there, face contorted into a look of pure and absolute disgust. Dean’s never seen that look on someone’s face, not even when his father caught him about to have sex with Victor. They’re frozen, they’re _all_ frozen in horror, and two of them are bare-ass naked. Just when Dean thinks this is the most uncomfortable moment of his life, Ion ups the ante and does something completely unexpected; he cries.

Ion bursts into tears, staggering back a few steps into the hallway as he lets out a series of small, slightly heartbreaking sniffles and whimpers. Castiel gets to his feet and pads to the door, still naked, still wearing the condom. Ion’s in the hallway now, expression still devastated as Castiel closes the bedroom door in his face.

“I apologize,” Castiel says, turning to look at Dean. “Mother has the only bedroom with a locking door.”

“That was fucking _tragic,_ Cas.”

“I don’t know, it made me feel a bit nostalgic. No one’s walked in on us since… when was that, Valentine’s Day?”

“ _Tragic_.”

“We have eleven minutes, Dean. Would you like to spend them wallowing in humiliation, or working to achieve orgasm?”

“Is he still out there?”

“Probably.”

Dean sighs. “Fine, fine. Get over here and come in my ass.”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


They’re thirteen minutes late to the start of the ceremony, but on the plus side, Dean’s tension is all but gone.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


It was difficult deciding what aspects of a traditional wedding to incorporate, and which to leave out. Especially when Dean wasn’t actually the one planning the wedding. Somehow it had been decided that Dean and Castiel’s respective “best men” would walk them down the aisle; not quite “giving them away”, but not _not_ doing that either. Unfortunately, Dean’s best man is forty minutes away back in Lawrence, crunching on saltines and popping Imodium like Tic Tacs, so Dean’s being guided down the aisle by his sister-in-law instead.

It’s a gorgeous day, still summer-warm and not a cloud in sight. Apparently, even Mother Nature bends to the whims of Naomi Adler. Close to one hundred fifty white seats are arranged on the east lawn, divided evenly on each side of the aisle, which Dean knows was paved with white cobblestones specifically for today. God, these people are so rich. Who the fuck paves anything just for one event? There are ridiculously tall flower arrangements along the aisle. They’re taller than Dean, covered in ribbons and carefully placed roses in shades of pink and white. There’s a well decorated wedding arch, and a podium for the justice of the peace. It’s fancy, and over the top, and not at _all_ what Dean wanted, but he has to admit… taken in all at once, it’s kind of pretty.

Naomi had wanted Dean and Castiel to wear white god damn suits with pink fucking ties to match the theme, but that was one of the things Dean was firm about. He’s not a bride, he’s not a _virgin,_ he’s not wearing white at his fucking wedding. Instead he’s in a charcoal gray suit and tie, while Castiel is in a suit approaching navy or cobalt blue. They both have on white shirts and black wing-tipped shoes, and they both have white roses pinned to their lapels. Even with some post-coital muss, Dean thinks they look pretty damn good, he can’t wait to see pictures.

He meets Jess near the end of the aisle, and his eyes zero in on her chest. “You can’t be serious.”

“He wants to be here!” Jess has taken several of the white ribbons from the flower arrangements and used them to lash an iPad to her front, and Sam’s sweaty, grinning face is looking up at Dean from Jess’ chest.

“I’m so excited,” Sam says. Oh great, it has sound.

Dean glares at the iPad housing his little brother. “Are you in the fucking tub?”

“I’m taking a bubble bath to relax…”

“At least move the screen closer to your face, man, people are gonna see your damn nipples,” Dean hisses. Sam moves, and Dean can hear water sloshing a bit before the angle changes and it’s just Sam’s face filling the screen. It’s weird, but at least no one will be able to tell he’s naked.

“Oh wait,” Sam says, “someone wants to say hi.”

“Sam.”

Sam moves again, and then Dean’s looking at Ezekiel as she stares inquisitively at the screen. Sam and Jess are set to look after the cat while Dean and Castiel are on their honeymoon, so she’s already at Sam’s house.

“People are waiting for me to come down the fucking aisle,” Dean grumbles, “can you show me my cat later?”

“Oops. Well, go, Dean! You won’t even know I’m here.”

Dean groans, but he takes Jess’ arm so they can drift down the aisle to surprisingly insistent harp music. He smiles and nods at the faces of a bunch of people he doesn’t know, and shrugs when he sees Jo gesturing at Jess’ chest with a look of pure “what the fuck?” on her face.

They reach the arch, and Jess stands off to the side while Dean waits for the love of his life to come and fucking _marry_ him.

The gentle, nameless tune the harpist was playing changes, and after a moment Dean realizes he’s hearing “Here Comes the Bride”. For fuck’s sake. He looks at Naomi, who makes a throat cutting gesture to Castiel’s sister Rachel, who all but flies over to the harpist and whispers in her ear. By the time the music changes and Dean looks back, Castiel is already halfway down the aisle, walking with Gabriel.

Damn it. _Damn it._ This was supposed to be their moment. Dean would look at Castiel coming toward him and fall in love all over again as he thought to their future or some fucking shit. Instead Dean’s thinking about attacking the harp with a pair of bolt cutters, while Castiel and Gabriel both look like they’re holding in laughter. Castiel locks eyes with Dean then, and Dean feels his tension start to melt away at the grin on Castiel’s face, the amusement in his eyes.

Right.

Dean keeps forgetting.

It’s not the wedding that matters, it’s what comes after, and _Castiel_ is what comes after.

The justice of the peace asks the cliched “If anyone has a reason why these two should not be wed, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace,” and Dean can’t help but glance at Ion as the words are spoken. Ion’s eyes are _still_ red from crying, but he looks offended at the question in Dean’s eyes. That’s when Dean’s eyes roam over to where Josie— _Abaddon_ is trying to stand, while Lisa holds her by the _hair_ to stop her from rising. God damn Abaddon. Dean knows she doesn’t want him back, he knows she does shit like this because it’ll make a good story later, and because she _loves_ when all eyes are on her. Cassie is on Abaddon’s other side, and whatever she whispers in Abaddon’s ear has her immediately ceasing her efforts to stand and quietly fluffing her hair back into place.

God. That woman would ruin her _own_ wedding given half a chance.

The ceremony proceeds, and soon they’re reciting their vows. Dean hears exactly _zero_ of what Castiel says. One minute their officiant is asking Castiel for his vows, then Castiel’s speaking while staring into Dean’s eyes, and Dean is fucking _lost._ How the fuck is he supposed to pay attention with Castiel looking at him like that?

There’s a long silence, and Castiel’s eyebrows raise high. Dean realizes it’s his turn to speak. Alright. He can do this. And later, he’ll watch the wedding video so he’ll know what the fuck Castiel’s vows were.

“Maybe I should have a big, sappy speech planned, but I kind of don’t. That’s not really me.” Their hands are joined in front of them, and Castiel rubs slow, soothing circles with his thumbs as Dean continues. “I love you, Cas. That’s probably all you need to know. I have loved you, and I _will_ love you. Until the end of this ceremony, the end of this hour, the end of this day, the end of this life, and whatever comes after.”

Okay. Maybe Dean had a _small_ speech planned. Castiel’s eyes are full of love and tears, and Dean doesn’t dare look away.

Until he hears the sound of a cat yowling.

“Ezekiel!” Sam yells from his place on Jess’ chest. “No! Let go of that!”

Dean, Castiel, and the justice of the peace turn to look at Jess, who is frantically trying to untie the ribbons behind her back. There’s a sound of sloshing water as the yowling continues, and the phone Sam was holding falls to the floor, pointed up at the ceiling. The last thing Dean sees before Jess manages to free the iPad is his little brother standing directly over the phone, still fucking naked, and it’s at an angle _no one_ should have to see Sam from.

The bubbles clinging to Sam’s body hide _nothing_.

There’s a collective groan of horror from the rows of people close enough to have seen Sam’s _taint,_ and Dean can hear his mother saying “Damn it, Sammy!” from the front.

“I’m glad you will love me forever,” Castiel says, soft enough for only Dean and their horrified justice of the peace to hear, “because I am _never_ doing this again.”

The justice awkwardly stammers her way through the ring exchange, tripping over her own words as she mutters about legal powers vested in her before pronouncing them married.

“Please,” she says, and it sounds like she’s begging, “kiss your husband.”

They kiss then, embracing each other tight beneath their beautiful wedding arch, and an endless blue sky.

“We’re moving to Alaska after this,” Castiel says, once they break apart.

Dean lets out an exhausted laugh and rests his forehead against Castiel’s. “Anything you want, Cas, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

Naomi was a bit more flexible when it came to planning the reception. She wanted a string quartet, Dean wanted something more like rock music, and they met in the middle. Naomi’s expensive sound system is cycling through a playlist of instrumental Metallica covers done with cellos. The food is classy but not pretentious, and the guests are mingling in several rooms on the first floor of the house. Dean doesn’t know whether to be pleased or freaked out at the sight of “his” people chatting with Naomi’s friends and Castiel’s relatives. Balthazar and Jo are flirting, Benny and Gabriel are eating hors d'oeuvres and nodding enthusiastically at each other, Jess is teaching Samandriel how to waltz to a cover of Unforgiven. The only person very clearly not having a good time is Ion, sulking in a corner of the main room and nursing an entire bottle of champagne.

Dean’s talking with Bobby and Ellen about the twenty “I am SO sorry” texts Dean got from Sam during the rest of the ceremony when Dean notices his father approaching Ion. He can’t hear their conversation from this far away, but John says a handful of words that have Ion staring up at him in disbelief for a long moment before fleeing the room. John smirks to himself and heads over to where Dean and Castiel’s mothers are talking with Castiel’s sisters.

“He’s really making an effort, huh?” Bobby says.

Dean nods. “Yeah… pretty wild.”

“I’ll say,” Ellen says. “John’s a lot of things, but _flexible_ ain’t never been one of ‘em. I think I’m proud of him, honestly.”

Dean smiles, watching his father. He seems genuinely happy to be here. “Yeah, I think I am too.”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


There are supposed to be two grooms standing atop the five-tiered wedding cake, but when Gabriel wheels it out from the kitchen, the groom figurines are lying flat, and there’s a large, angry looking bear figurine standing over them.

“Dude,” Dean says, “you’re sick.”

“Come _on,_ ” Gabriel says, gesturing emphatically at the cake. “It’s funny!”

“I don’t get it,” Balthazar says.

Castiel sighs. “The bear. In Colorado. I told you about this, Bal. Dean almost _died_.”

“Oh. Oh, dear.” Balthazar is trying and failing to hide his grin behind a mini-quiche. “Just dreadful.”

  
  


*

  
  


The good thing about having a ton of people at the wedding is they’ve all brought gifts. There’s a pretty huge pile of presents in the foyer, which is kind of wild since most of these things are from _strangers._ Wealthy strangers, though, so Dean’s pretty excited about opening the variety of boxes and envelopes after the honeymoon. Naomi has said someone will drop the gifts by their house while they’re in Hawaii, which is _fascinating,_ because she doesn’t have a key to their place. Whatever. As long as she doesn’t redecorate Dean’s home or something, Dean doesn’t really care.

Oh God, what if she really does redecorate his house?

“You look rather perturbed for someone staring at thousands of dollars worth of gifts,” Balthazar says next to him.

“Do you think Cas’ mom would break into my house and redecorate it?”

Balthazar bursts into a short fit of laughter. “I don’t really know the woman, but maybe. Did you enjoy your wedding?”

“The part where I married Cas? Yeah. Everything leading up to it? No, not really.”

“I rather enjoyed the free look at your brother’s genitals.”

“He has _gonorrhea,_ man.”

Balthazar clucks his tongue. “Yes, I heard. Your sister-in-law is quite chatty when she’s had a few glasses of champagne. I slipped her my card, told her to phone if she and your brother got to being adventurous again.”

“Dude, you’re not fucking my brother.”

“Well certainly not in his current state, no.”

“ _Dude—”_

“You see that gift near the front of the pile? White paper, gold stars?” Balthazar says, gesturing towards the gifts with his champagne glass.

Dean can see the gift Balthazar is talking about. It’s not as large as some of the packages, but it’s pretty long. “Yeah?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but the lovely Jess mentioned you wouldn’t be opening your gifts until _after_ Hawaii…”

“Oh God, is there a _pet_ in there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s something for your honeymoon. From me.”

“Should I open it now?”

Balthazar grins. “I wouldn’t.”

“What the fuck is in there?”

“A double-ended dildo,” Balthazar says, calmly sipping from his glass.

“What… _what._ ”

“Purple. Very sturdy material.”

“I’m not—”

“It came _highly_ recommended.”

“Dude—”

“Pardon me, phone’s buzzing.”

“No, it’s n—”

Balthazar walks away, phone to his ear as he takes what is probably an imaginary call. Dean glares as Balthazar disappears into another room, then with a sigh, he grabs the gift to go put in the Impala.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


When Dean comes back, Castiel is talking to Dean’s _father,_ which is super fucking weird. As much as Dean would like to gawk at the spectacle, he should probably be mingling. He chats up a few of Naomi’s guests, passes his mother a cloth napkin when she bursts into tears, calmly talks to Abaddon while she pretends she didn’t try to upstage him at his own wedding, and so on. Each time he glances over at his husband, Castiel and John are still talking. The conversation looks a bit intense, though not hostile. Dean’s barely had a chance to talk to Castiel since the ceremony, which is a bit annoying, but he has to remind himself that they’ll have plenty of time for just the two of them on the honeymoon.

Feeling a bit peckish, Dean drifts over to the stuffed mushrooms, grabbing one to eat, then a second, when he tastes how good they are. He looks back over at Castiel, frowning. Castiel seems to be on the verge of tears as he nods emphatically at something John is saying.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

“I have no damn clu—” Dean does a double take, realizing it’s _Sam_ next to him. “You’re here!”

Sam is dressed down compared to the other guests; he has on black slacks and a loose fitting grey button up shirt. He gives Dean a big hug, still faintly smelling like his jasmine bubble bath.

“How are you feeling?” Dean asks, clapping Sam on the back.

“I’m surrounded by delicious looking food that will probably send my stomach spiraling into chaos, so… I’m kinda sad,” Sam says, gazing at a nearby platter of fruit tarts.

“Well, take some with you for when you’re feeling better.”

Sam holds up a Tupperware container full of food. “Already done. _So,_ how’s married life?”

Dean glances over at Castiel and sees that he and John are _hugging._ “Uh… so far, it’s confusing.”

“Okay, didn’t see that coming,” Sam says.

“You’re here!” Jess squeals, bounding over. “Where’s your suit?”

“I didn’t want to get sick on it.”

“Dude, I’m _eating,_ ” Dean whines.

John and Castiel part ways, and Dean watches Castiel head out of the room.

“Jesus,” Sam says, “is that Josie Sands?”

“She goes by Abaddon now. I’ll be right back.” Dean pats Sam on the shoulder and starts walking away.

“What the hell is she wearing?” he hears Sam saying behind him.

“I know!” Jess replies, “if one of my guests did that at _our_ wedding, I’d have scratched their eyes right out.”

Dean rushes out to the foyer just in time to see the front door close. After less than a minute of debating with himself, Dean follows. Castiel is seated on the steps leading up to the house, face buried in his arms on his knees.

“Cas? Are you okay?” Dean says, kneeling beside him.

“I am,” Castiel replies, breath shaky. “Just a bit overwhelmed.”

Dean wraps his arms around Castiel, pulling him close. “What the fuck did he _say_?”

“Nothing unkind. Quite the opposite.” Castiel leans against Dean. “We were making small talk at first, then he said he was sorry that my father couldn’t be here. I told him that my father would never have come even if he _had_ been alive.”

“Aw, Cas…” Dean kisses the top of Castiel’s head. There’s no point in saying that maybe Castiel’s words aren’t true.

“Then somehow I ended up telling him about what happened when Ion caught me with Uriel, and how father and I had never reconciled, and that his death had ended up being a catalyst to reunite me with my estranged family… all of that. He told me that a good father would never treat his child like that, and how he hadn’t been a good father to you.”

Dean won’t argue with that.

“He said that he was going to be a better father to you and Sam… and to _me,_ because I was one of his sons now.” Castiel lets out a weird half-sob. “It meant so much to me. I know we didn’t really settle on if we’d be changing our names or not, but… I think I’d really like to be a Winchester.”

“Fuck, I am totally on board with this plan,” Dean says, kissing Castiel’s hair. “Alright, Mr. _Winchester_ , you know they’re expecting us to dance at some point, right?”

Castiel groans. “I thought you were going to talk to Mother about that.”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t budge.”

“And the fact that neither of us can dance?”

“She suggested we hold each other and… sway.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

Dean smirks. “And here I thought you were taking it all in stride. What happened to all that crap about how this is just one day?”

“That was before I had to speak to dozens of people saying things like ‘oh, you know my cousin is gay’, and ‘my gardener is a lesbian, maybe you know her’. My ninety-eight year old great aunt asked me which one of us is ‘ _the woman_ ’ and then tutted about my inability to father a biological child with you. Then _Jo_ overheard our conversation and offered to be our surrogate.”

“That’s uh… nice of her.”

“We got married two hours ago, we don’t need a surrogate.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re having as much fun as I am.”

“I can’t wait until we’re in Hawaii. No work, no obligations, no _harp_ … just you, me—”

“And the double-ended dildo Balthazar gave us for our wedding gift.”

Castiel pulls back slightly to look at Dean. “Excuse me?”

“It’s in the trunk. Don’t worry, I think it’ll fit in one of the suitcases.”

“ _Okay then_. Let’s go dance for our guests, Dean.”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


They dance, they sway, they endure an emotionally charged speech from Sam, and a comedically charged speech from Gabriel. They take a million “official” wedding photos with the photographer, and in front of everyone they arm wrestle to see who has to throw a bouquet. Castiel loses, and when he throws one of the decorative bundles of flowers, Dean watches Abaddon _shove_ two other women out of the way so she can catch it and look surprised. There’s cake and champagne, laughter and tears, and then finally, _finally,_ the event draws to a close. Dean and Castiel leave after bidding adieu to everyone still at the mansion, and after setting three different alarms to ensure they make their six a.m. flight, they crawl into bed to spend their first night of wedded bliss completely unconscious.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**(Sunday)**

 

Or at least, that was the plan. Dean shakes Castiel awake at midnight, persistent in the face of Castiel’s annoyed groans and whines.

“It _can’t_ be time yet,” he sighs.

“It’s not,” Dean says.

Castiel flicks on the lamp that sits on his side of the bed. “Are you alright?”

“I didn’t hear your vows.”

“What?”

“During the wedding, I didn’t hear your vows. I got all distracted staring at your dumb blue eyes and by the time I realized I wasn’t listening, it was too late.”

Castiel grins. “My dumb blue eyes?”

“Come on, you know you have nice eyes.”

Castiel bats his eyelashes. “Do I?”

“Are you gonna tell me your vows, or do I have to wait for the wedding video?”

“No, no… I’ll tell you. I spent two hours memorizing them, you should hear them from me.” Castiel shoves their blanket to the side and rises onto his knees. “Come on, take my hands.”

Dean grunts and rolls onto his side, then gets up on his knees like Castiel. They join hands, looking at each other with big, dopey grins on their faces. They’re in boxers instead of suits, and there’s no harp being plucked in the distance, but Dean still feels the same magic he felt while they were in front of that arch.

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

“Shh, stop. I’m doing my speech.”

“Oh. Oops. Okay, go on.”

“Dean. Sometimes we don’t know that the big moments in our lives are big until they’ve long passed, but when I approached you to hand you your wallet, I could feel the change in the air. Maybe I didn’t know I was about to meet the love of my life, but I knew something important was coming. I ran from it at first, but fate had other plans. I’m so grateful that I didn’t miss out on knowing you… that I didn’t miss out on _loving_ you. I will spend the rest of my life running toward you, Dean. I will go on any journey with you, in this life, and every life after. I am for you, my beloved, and only you.”

Dean’s crying, but it’s fine, Castiel has never and will never look down on Dean for his tears. He yanks Castiel forward into a kiss, licking into his mouth and moving forward until their hips are pressed together.

“If this is your reaction,” Castiel pants as Dean pulls down their boxers, “perhaps it’s for the best that you were unable to hear me during the ceremony.”

Dean takes Castiel’s cock in his hand, and Castiel reciprocates. “Shh, we need to hurry and get back to sleep.”

“Then why are we doing this?”

“It’s my wedding night.” Dean pulls away to fumble a bottle of lube out of the nightstand. They trade fast, slick hand jobs, and Castiel makes all these cute, needy whimpers when Dean starts biting and sucking a bruise onto his neck.

“Love you, Dean,” Castiel says, dick jerking in Dean’s hand when Dean bites down harder. “ _Dean,_ ah… _ah…_ ” Castiel seems to completely forget about stroking Dean for a moment, both hands clasped around Dean’s biceps, hips desperately moving to work his dick into Dean’s fist. When Dean disengages his teeth from Castiel’s skin, Castiel comes, letting out an uncharacteristic volley of curses that Dean can’t help but grin at.

“That’s it, baby,” Dean says, hand messy with Castiel’s come. Castiel growls, shoving Dean onto his back. Dean’s head is hanging off the foot of the bed, but before he can move to fix that, Castiel is grabbing hold of his cock, giving it a few pumps before lowering his mouth onto it.

“Ah, shit,” Dean mutters when Castiel’s long, glorious tongue starts to work his shaft. Dean’s dick has to be _covered_ in lube but Castiel doesn’t seem to care with the way he’s licking and sucking and taking Dean almost down his fucking throat. Slick fingers tease at Dean’s perineum, then lower, and Dean spreads his legs open and lifts his hips until the fingers are at his hole. Castiel pushes one in right away, slow but insistent, and the stretch has Dean wishing they had time to do something a bit more involved.

Castiel thrusts his finger and lets out this low, excited groan around Dean’s cock, and it’s the thought of Castiel being so into this even after his orgasm that has Dean coming into his husband’s waiting mouth, writhing against the finger still working inside him.

Alright. They should probably clean up and get back to sleep.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

They get up at a quarter to four to stumble into the shower together. Everything is already packed and waiting to go, but Dean takes a moment to put Balthazar’s gift and an extra bottle of lube into their largest suitcase.

They’re both groggy and silent, but still they shoot each other coy little grins and smirks as they get ready to go. The newness of this situation is mind boggling. They’re still Dean and Castiel, but married.

_Married._

Dean Winchester is a married man. The man standing by the bookshelf, debating on bringing extra books for the plane ride, that’s Dean’s husband. Fuck.

“You’re my _husband,_ ” Dean says.

Castiel turns, holding two books on baking, and one on birds. “I am,” he agrees. “Forever.”

“Shit.”

Castiel drops his books as they meet in the middle of the room in an almost violent kiss, no finesse, no grace, just eager tongues and roaming hands. Dean’s on his way to getting hard when he hears a car horn sounding outside, and he pulls away with a groan.

“I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming when we get to Hawaii,” Castiel growls.

“You’d better,” Dean says, stealing another quick kiss. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

  
  


*

  
  


The Naomi Adler Deluxe Honeymoon Package includes a driver to take them out to Kansas City International Airport in Missouri for their first class flight, so Dean gets to spend the forty-five minute ride holding Castiel’s hand and poring over a stack of pamphlets and brochures full of shit they’re probably not going to do. Sure, Dean likes to think he’ll make the most of this trip; see the sights, mingle with the locals or other tourists, eat amazing new food, but there’s also the possibility that he’s going to spend ten days getting fucked in a variety of positions in an exotic new location. He’s cool with either eventuality.

What he’s not cool with is flying. Dean is not a fan of airplanes at _all._ He’s flown only a few times in his life, and they all went very, very badly. Dean will always choose driving over flying if he can. Of course, when it comes to going from Kansas to Hawaii… driving is not so much an option. So, Dean had gone to his doctor for tranquilizers, because he’d rather be a doped up loon on the plane than start and end his honeymoon with twin nervous breakdowns.

His doctor wrote a prescription for some tranquilizer that Dean can’t pronounce; ten pills, which should be more than enough for the trip. Well… nine pills. Dean tried one out the day he got them to make sure they weren’t going to make him sick or anything. He doesn’t _entirely_ remember the experience, but according to Castiel, he was very friendly. He takes his pill as soon as they’ve cleared security, and by the time they’re wheels up, Dean’s feeling… awesome.

“Cas,” Dean says, staring out the window.

“Yes?”

“If we crash, don’t be scared, okay? I can swim.”

“That’s good. I can swim too.”

“Except…” Dean lifts the blind over his window. “We’re not over water.”

“Not yet. The next flight will take us over the water.”

“Never flown over water before. What if we see sharks?!” Dean says excitedly. He really wants to see a shark. The woman sitting across the aisle on the other side of Castiel glares at Dean and asks a flight attendant for a pair of headphones. Dean knows he’s being annoying, but he doesn’t really care.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


The flight lasts about four hours, and then they’re deboarding for a ninety minute layover in Seattle. They grab smoothies, they pee, they stretch their legs, and before long they’re boarding their plane to Kahului. Dean’s giddy high has worn off, but he’s still pretty calm. Maybe a little… _concerned_ about plummeting from the sky, but he’s not crying or reaching for the vomit bag. He does feel slightly more anxious as he looks out the window into a seemingly endless ocean, though.

“I’m taking the window seat on the flight home,” Castiel says, reaching past Dean to pull the blind closed.

“It’s hard not to look,” Dean mutters.

“Try harder,” Castiel says, voice tight. Dean looks at the way Castiel’s leg is bouncing in place, the firm set of his jaw… oh, holy shit.

“You’re afraid of flying,” Dean says.

“ _You’re_ afraid of flying,” Castiel snaps, “I’m just… a nervous flier.”

“Dude,” Dean says, grinning, “how come you never told me?”

“It didn’t really come up.”

“Not even last week, when I told you I was terrified of this flight and you sent me to the doctor for tranqs?”

“I didn’t think we should _both_ be high for this, and I wanted to be the strong one.”

Dean kisses Castiel’s cheek. “Aww… you are, baby. You are.”

  
  


*

  
  


By hour three of their six hour flight to Hawaii, they’ve decided they’ll both be happier unconscious, and they cuddle together as best they can to sleep the remainder of the flight away. It’s a shame they’re both afraid of flying, Dean’s never had sex on a plane before.

  
  


*

  
  


They wake when their pilot announces their impending arrival in Kahului Airport, and Dean winces at the slick patch of drool left on his shoulder.

“My apologies,” Castiel mumbles as Dean wipes at it with his hand.

“It’s okay, we’re married. We share everything now, including drool.”

“That’s very romantic.”

Against his better judgment Dean opens his window blind to get his first glimpse of Maui. It’s unreal. Glittering, vivid cerulean waters, greenery everywhere, bright sandy beaches, palm trees that come into view as the plane descends.

“Wow,” Castiel whispers next to him.

“I’ll say,” Dean says, heart beating with a mix of anticipation of their destination, and maybe just a _little_ fear as the plane comes in for its landing.

 


	6. Chapter 6

As much as Dean would love to fling himself into the nearest patch of gorgeous ocean water, there are still things to do. There’s the eternal deboarding process, waiting for luggage, renting a car…

Dean sends Sam a “we made it!” text, and Sam responds with a photo of Ezekiel curled up on Sam’s bed with Tessa and Billie. Dean wonders how much of a hassle it’s going to be trying to get his cat back from Sam later.

Most of the people in the airport seem to be tourists, but Dean spots two little Hawaiian girls wearing brightly colored dresses with flowers in their hair, greeting what looks to be their grandmother. It takes all his willpower not to coo and squeal like the tourist he totally is.

It’s wild that they’ve been traveling for half a day, and yet in Maui it’s only around two in the afternoon. Even with the nap on the plane, Dean has a feeling they’ll be crashing pretty early tonight.

It’s a fifty minute drive from the airport to Coral Sandtree resort, and it’s hard for Dean to keep his eyes on the highway and not gawk at all the palm trees, the ocean just on the other side of the barriers along the highway, the fluffy clouds seeming to cling to distant mountains, and the many, many types of trees and plants Dean’s never seen before and can’t identify. Castiel’s face is practically plastered to his window as Dean follows the instructions given by the car’s fancy GPS navigator.

The resort is a pretty large hotel with several private bungalows along a secluded section of the beach. Naomi arranged for Dean and Castiel to be in one of the bungalows, which means more privacy and less people, but a longer walk for dinner at the hotel, since their rental car will be staying in the hotel’s parking lot. Castiel takes dozens of photos as the hotel staffer escorts them to their room, discussing the resort’s many amenities, the best time to have meals in the hotel restaurant, average room service wait time for the bungalows, rules about the surrounding beach, things like that.

Once they reach the bungalow, Castiel takes out a pouch Dean’s never seen before, retrieving some money to tip the hotel worker. The pouch has… a _lot_ of cash in it. What the fuck?

As soon as the worker is gone, Dean snatches the pouch out of Castiel’s hand, gaping at all the money inside. “What in the hell is all this?”

“Mother insisted,” Castiel says, “it’s for tipping... meals… activities…”

“So this is what, vacation petty cash?! Cas, this is insane.”

“I thought you were fine with her paying.”

“I didn’t know she was paying for _everything-_ everything.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Mother is anxious to part with this money. Michael told me she has been rather eager to spend the life insurance payment she received after my father’s death. I assume because of his infidelity. She’s purchased a new car, remodeled their bedroom, and now… this.”

Dean groans. “This is nuts. Who carries around this much in _cash_?” Dean pulls the cash out, separating it into a few stacks. One he gives to Castiel, one he takes himself, and the rest will go in the bungalow’s safe. “Why the fuck are people always giving us money? I _have_ a job.”

“Perhaps our love is so beautiful, it inspires great acts of generosity,” Castiel says dryly.

“That _must_ be it,” Dean grumbles.

“Don’t be angry, Dean.”

“I’m not. I’m _not._ It’s just…” Dean sighs, sitting on the bed. Castiel joins him. “There’s still this little part of me that’s frustrated with not being the… provider. There was the jar with all the date money, you make _way_ more than I do, and then the wedding, the trip, the giant pile of gifts waiting at our house… when do I start being the one to provide for my damn _husband?_ ”

“We could go on another vacation next year, and you can pay for it?”

“Cas…”

“I thought we settled this a long time ago, Dean.”

“We did, but—”

“But we didn’t really. Dean, accepting gifts, even extravagant ones, doesn’t mean you lose husband points. You’re stuck in this mindset that you are the _man_ and must win all the bread, which is ridiculous, because A: it’s _very_ sexist, and B: we are both men. No one is judging you for not paying for this trip, except you.”

“It’s not… _that_ sexist…”

“So, had you married a woman, you _wouldn’t_ expect to make the lion’s share of the household income?”

Holy shit. Dean’s kind of sexist. “I suck. Fuck, I did not want to know this about myself. Sorry, Cas, I’ll try not to bring this up again.”

“Bring it up if it comes up. You won’t work through anything by pretending it’s not there. But do try to remember that my love and adoration are not contingent on something as vulgar as _money._ We have our entire lives to worry about paying for things, let’s enjoy getting to do all of this for free.”

“I’m going to try, okay?”

“That’s all I ask, beloved.”

  
  


*

  
  


They spend a chunk of time getting settled in their bungalow. Their vacation wardrobe of jeans, cargo shorts, short-sleeved plaid shirts, and Castiel’s array of novelty t-shirts goes into the dressers, their gift from Balthazar goes under the bed, lube and books go in the nightstands.

The bungalow is beautiful. There’s a living room with a large, comfy looking couch and a big screen TV, the master bedroom has a king size four poster bed, the bathroom has a large tub, a shower, and an attached outdoor shower. There’s a kitchenette with a nicely stocked pantry, a private pool, and tons of gorgeous pieces of Hawaiian art. A ten day stay in a place like this has to cost ten grand, probably way more, and Dean has to remind himself that this vacation is a _gift,_ paid for by someone pretty much looking to burn a cash surplus. It’s okay to enjoy this.

By five, Dean and Castiel have moved in, and they take a moment to lounge on the back deck, which extends right over the ocean. The deck chairs are insanely comfortable, and if Dean’s not careful, he’s going to fall asleep.

“Think we can fly Sam, Jess, and the others out and set them up in the other bungalows? We can all just live here forever,” Dean says, staring into the watery horizon.

Castiel chuckles, voice warm and inviting like the seventy-five degree air. “Should we ever win the lottery, I’ll look into it.”

Dean’s just about to suggest they get some dinner when he hears the sound of a woman moaning.

Castiel looks at Dean, startled but amused. “Love is in the air?”

It’s coming from the bungalow next to theirs, and the woman’s cries of “Oh, oh! Yes! Right there, baby!” really carry.

Okay, maybe Dean won’t be spending much time out here. “Let’s uh—”

“YES! YES!”

“Uh…”

“HARDER!!”

“Get the hell out of here?” Castiel suggests.

Dean nods, and they scramble out of their deck chairs and back inside.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


Dinner at the hotel is delicious. _Crowded,_ but delicious. Dean orders a mixed grill of lobster, scallops and prawns, while Castiel orders the fire roasted salmon with island veggies and rice. They spend their meal taking bites from each other’s plates and playing footsie under the table. They get a little tipsy on passion fruit Mai Tais, make out in the hotel lobby, then make their way back to the bungalow. It may be seven-thirty here, but Dean’s still on Kansas time, and he is _beat._

“So,” Dean says, leering at his husband, “first night of our honeymoon. You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Are you thinking about crawling into bed and passing out?”

Dean grins. “Yes.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**(Monday)**

  
  


  
  


Dean wakes up smiling. The clock reads five a.m., but Dean is full of energy and ready to start his day.

“Look at you,” Castiel says next to him, “like a boy on Christmas morning.”

Dean turns his head, beaming at Castiel. “How long were you watching me sleep?”

Castiel bites his lower lip… God, Dean loves that. “Not… too long.”

Castiel watches Dean sleep. A lot. He says it brings him peace. They’d been living together for over a month before Dean caught on. It was weird at first, because who does that, but Dean’s used to it now. Hell, he kind of loves it. Dean’s lying there unconscious and Castiel is sitting there, watching him and looking forward to Dean waking up. Dean’s tried watching Castiel sleep a few times, actually. It’s nice, but usually he only makes it ten minutes or so before he has to pee, or gets hungry, or horny, or realizes Castiel is in the process of oversleeping and needs to get to the bakery.

“You said my name a few times, not long before you woke up,” Castiel says thoughtfully, “what were you dreaming about?”

“This,” Dean says, rolling onto his side. He kisses Castiel’s neck gently. “Us.”

“I thought about sucking you off until you woke up,” Castiel says conversationally as Dean pulls away the bedspread.

Dean pouts. “Why didn’t you?”

“You look so gorgeous when you’re sleeping, it’s hard to bring myself to disturb that.”

“It’s my favorite way of being disturbed.”

“So you’ve told me.”

Dean glances at the nightstand, licking his lips when he notices the open bottle of lube sitting there. “Been up long?”

Castiel grins. “Like I said… not too long.” There’s a slick trail of lube on Castiel’s inner thigh, and… oh hey, Castiel’s naked. God, was he lying in bed, touching himself and thinking about Dean?

Dean remembers Christmas, waking up already inside Castiel.

Yep, Castiel was probably doing just that, then. Kinky fuck.

“Spread your legs, Cas.”

Castiel obeys, and Dean trails two fingers along Castiel’s thigh, through the trace amounts of lube, down, down between Castiel’s legs. He groans as his fingers reach Castiel’s slick, open hole, dipping them inside to find him well stretched. Fuck, he must have _just_ finished before Dean woke up.

“You did this for me, baby?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Dean pulls off his boxers and grabs the lube off the nightstand so he can apply some to his cock, which is awake and _ready_ for this. He sits cross-legged on the bed, holding his arms out until Castiel gets up and into his lap. He holds Dean’s cock steady as he takes it inside himself. As soon as Dean is hilted all the way inside Castiel pushes forward, kissing Dean soundly. His kisses are hungry, filthy, but he works his ass in Dean’s lap at a slow, gentle pace. This goes on for several minutes, and their glacial climb toward orgasm wars with Dean’s innate impatience.

“So,” Dean says, breaking their kiss, “what were you thinking about while you got yourself ready? Just sucking me off? Were you working yourself open thinking about gagging on my dick?”

Castiel grins, predatory. “I thought about tying you up.”

Dean’s hips jerk involuntarily. “You did?”

Castiel chuckles. “Not something I’d do while you were sleeping, mind you, but I was thinking about the rope in the garage at home...”

Dean thinks back to when they hadn’t known each other all that long, and Castiel had said he didn’t really have any kinks. _Ha._ “I might uh… I might like that.”

Castiel seems pleased by Dean’s honesty. “Something to look forward to when we get home, perhaps.”

Dean nods enthusiastically. “What, uh… what do you think you’d do? While I’m tied up? Did you um… think about that?”

“Oh, yes,” Castiel says, rocking a little harder in Dean’s lap.

“Tell me.”

“Well, I thought about tying each limb separately…” Castiel says. Dean holds him a bit tighter. “But I also thought about having you on your knees, hands tied behind your back. I thought about you moaning into the pillows while I licked you open, got you ready to—”

Dean buries his face in Castiel’s neck, biting down as he comes hard and unexpectedly.

“Oh, _God,_ Dean,” Castiel groans, squirming when Dean gets a hand on his cock, jerking fast. “Can’t believe you just— harder, bite me harder.”

Dean complies, tightening his teeth and working his hand faster even as his dick starts to slip out of Castiel.

“Oh, that’s it, that’s perfect,” Castiel groans, tensing further and further until he comes with a long, relieved sigh, jolting when Dean disengages his teeth. Castiel flops onto his back, ass still in Dean’s lap. “That was… sudden.”

“Yeah, that was rude, huh. Didn’t even let you finish your sentence, sorry. Licked me open while you got me ready to what?”

“Mm, _fuck,_ ” Castiel says, thighs squeezing Dean’s sides.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


By seven they’re showered, dressed, and ready to walk to the hotel for breakfast. As soon as they exit their bungalow, they hear the woman next door again, moaning her heart out. Dean groans, and they walk away quickly, anxious to get out of hearing range.

“Should we be having louder sex?” Castiel asks.

“We’re _fine,_ ” Dean says, “keep going.”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


Breakfast is spent deciding whether they should spend the day exploring the island, lazing around the beach with a layer of sunscreen coating their bodies, or lazing around the bungalow with a layer of sweat, lube, and come coating their bodies.

“I’m so torn,” Castiel says, preparing to take another bite of his sweet bread french toast. “Lying around on the beach sounds wonderful, but there are so many things I want to see.”

“Well… we’re here until next Wednesday morning, Cas. I say we spend today at the resort, unwind a bit more, and tomorrow we get out there and see Maui.”

“One more day to unwind… that sounds like a good idea.”

Dean smiles, taking a sip of his mimosa.

“In that case,” Castiel says, “perhaps we can try out Balthazar’s gift sometime today.”

Dean starts sputtering and coughing while Castiel continues eating his breakfast.

  
  


*

  
  


“God.”

“I know.”

They’re sprawled out on adjacent beach towels under the large, white parasol that came with their bungalow, fingers tangled between them. Dean’s in a pair of tan cargo shorts, but Castiel is wearing a pair of long shorts patterned with hibiscus blossoms and tiki masks. Dean needs another day or so before he starts dressing like a full-on tourist. They’re using their t-shirts and flip-flops as pillows, and Dean has one foot in the warm sand because he loves how it feels on his toes. The ocean is close, though they’ve yet to go running into it. For now they’re content to know it’s there, a cerulean stretch of eternity right in front of them. Dean is so very at peace. The sounds of talking and laughter from other hotel guests seem distant, unimportant.

“It’s incredible,” Castiel says softly, “that all of this came about because of a sexually transmitted infection.”

Okay, moment’s over.

  
  


*

  
  


They spend another hour out on the sand, dozing, talking. Dean pays a bored teenager five dollars to take a few photos of them snuggling on their towels, and Castiel is so impressed with the composition of the pictures that he ends up giving the kid another five dollars. Dean posts the photos to his infrequently used Facebook page, and then they’re stuffing their valuables into waterproof bags and stuffing the bags into the pockets of Dean’s cargo shorts.

“I told you these would be useful,” Dean says as they leave their towels and flip-flops behind.

“Those are going to get _very_ heavy once they’re wet.”

“I’m strong, I can take it.”

The water is warmer than Dean expects. He thought it would be like dipping into a lake, but it’s more like dipping into a nice, warm bath. They spend an hour or so in the water, swimming, splashing, staying fairly close to the shore; Dean’s not trying to die in a freak swimming accident on his honeymoon. Eventually they decide to stop and maybe go take a nap, because lying around on towels and splashing about in the ocean is grueling work.

The outdoor shower is an interesting experience. Dean feels like he’s being watched even though it’s walled off, but it’s better than tracking sand into their nice, clean bungalow. There’s a housekeeping service, but the bungalows have to call for it, and Dean always feels weird about having strangers roaming in his living space.

Castiel had finished showering a few minutes before Dean, and when Dean walks into the bedroom, his husband is cradling a bright purple double-ended dildo in both hands.

“Jesus.”

“Just finished making sure it’s clean,” Castiel says casually. Out of the box, the toy looks… intimidating. “You look frightened.”

Dean’s eyes roam down Castiel’s naked body to where he’s half hard. “You sure don’t.”

“What can I say, I’m intrigued. Get on the bed.”

Dean pulls off the towel cinched around his waist and flops onto the bed, sprawled out like a starfish on his stomach. “Take me with your big, freaky purple cock,” he says, wiggling his ass.

“Alright, alright, make some room, we still have to get ready.” Castiel crawls onto the bed and gives Dean’s ass a slap.

They finger themselves open slowly, side by side on the bed, pausing every so often to exchange heated kisses. The toy sits at the foot of the bed, conspicuous and promising. They don’t really use toys that often, or if they do, the toys get discarded fairly quickly. Dean can only get fucked by a fake cock for so long before he starts wanting the real thing. This, though… this will be new. Both of them getting fucked at the same time, assuming they can figure out how to position themselves. Dean’s not really sure how this will work, but it’s worth a try, even if what Dean _really_ wants is to crawl over Castiel and fuck into him, or maybe get in his lap and ride him hard.

“Alright…” Dean says once they’re both more or less ready. They’re sitting with their legs crossed now, neither reaching for the toy, which suddenly seems somehow threatening. “How do we… uh, damn. This should have come with instructions.”

“Perhaps we can look on the internet?”

God, this is sad. Dean wipes his hand off on his towel, then grabs his phone off the nightstand. He types “double ended dildo” into Google, then taps the first link that looks like a porn site. The video that comes up is two women, kissing and touching, with nary a dildo in sight.

“So,” Dean says, looking over to his very gay husband, “is this just like looking at wallpaper for you?”

Castiel snorts. “No. I… appreciate their beauty, even enjoy the sounds of pleasure to some degree, but I’m not… excited. Try searching ‘double ended dildo gay’.”

Dean complies, and the next video looks more promising. Two guys are kissing and licking a long, black dildo that looks like it’s made of silicone.

Castiel wrinkles his nose. “Why are they licking it? I’m not doing that.”

Dean snickers. “I’m okay with that, Cas.” He clicks ahead in the video, and suddenly the two men are in the thick of it, positioned oddly in Dean’s opinion. They look like they’re crab-walking, only they’re not going anywhere, instead they’re rolling their hips, asses almost touching as the black silicone fills them both up. Dean gets a little harder watching.

“This looks so uncomfortable,” Castiel says.

“Look, I say we get on our hands and knees and crawl backward until our asses are kissing.”

Castiel chokes, Dean’s assuming on his own spit, then he’s glancing over at the toy. “Alright. You first.”

Dean gets on his hands and knees, looking behind himself and smiling at the way Castiel’s staring at his ass. Castiel puts a thumb at Dean’s hole, testing, teasing, then he’s adding lube to the toy and pressing it to where Dean’s open and waiting. It’s cool, slick, and Dean gasps as he feels his rim stretch and open wider to let the toy in. Dean squirms as Castiel withdraws the toy, then pushes it back in another inch, working it in and out of Dean until Dean feels stuffed full.

“Okay,” Dean says, breathing gone heavy, “your turn.”

“Alright,” Castiel mutters. He gets into position behind Dean, legs spread enough so they’re not tangled with Dean’s as he back his ass closer. Dean can’t see what’s happening, but he has a feeling it looks hilarious. He can feel the toy being moved around, then Castiel is gasping, and Dean can tell that it’s inside of Castiel as well, instead of awkwardly hanging out of Dean’s ass.

“Alright,” Castiel says again, shuffling back further, “okay.”

Dean chuckles. “Maybe we should set the phone up to record this.”

“No thank you.”

It takes several minutes to get things running even remotely smoothly. There’s a lot of repositioning, re-lubing, bad angles, and grunts of discomfort. Dean’s never felt more uncoordinated in his life.

Eventually, they find the right rhythm and the right angle, and it starts to actually feel something other than awkward. It starts to feel pretty damn good, even. The closer their asses are, the more action Dean’s prostate sees, but when he tries to move faster, it fucks up their rhythm, so they move steadily, pushing and pulling, letting out soft moans on occasion.

This is interesting and all, but Dean’s not sure he’s that into it. Like this, Dean can’t really have Castiel’s hands on his body, or teeth on his skin. He can’t feel that messy-weird-hot sensation after Castiel comes inside him and starts to pull out, or the glorious pressure of Castiel’s ass squeezing around his cock. God damnit, _this_ is why they never get far with sex toys.

Castiel lets out a little whine, and then he’s moving away, taking the toy with him slowly.

“Cas?”

“Miss you,” Castiel mutters. Dean sighs happily when he feels Castiel’s hands on his hips, and then Castiel’s sliding all the way in with one easy push.

“ _Yesyesyes_ ,” Dean groans, bracing himself as Castiel starts fucking him with fast, sharp thrusts.

“Better?” Castiel pants.

“Better,” Dean agrees, moving one hand down to his cock.

“I. Think. So. Too.” Castiel punctuates each growled out word with a thrust.

“Fuck, Cas.”

“Gonna come soon, Dean, you’d better hurry.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll fucking hurry,” Dean says, jerking himself faster, “just need…”

“I know what you need,” Castiel says, pulling Dean upright, onto his knees.

At this point, Castiel’s practically got Dean trained to come when bitten, and Dean feels a spark of adrenaline run through him when Castiel starts planting kisses on the back of his neck.

“I know exactly what you need, beloved,” Castiel says, biting down.

Dean comes, voice going high and breathy as he shakes his way through his orgasm. Castiel tenses behind him, teeth tightening on Dean’s skin as he comes. Dean feels like he’s going to break into a million pieces.

It’s nice to know Castiel will be right there to pick every last piece up.

  
  


 


	8. Chapter 8

They finally get around to taking their nap, after which they take another shower, then make their way out to the main hotel for dinner. Dean’s halfway through his macadamia and panko crusted salmon when Castiel chuckles, nudging Dean’s foot under the table.

“What’s so funny?”

Castiel gestures to a couple making out at a table across the room. “Young love.”

“ _Young_ love? Come on, that guy looks older than us,” Dean says, sipping from his glass of wine. “You jealous of them? Wanna find each other’s tonsils right on this table?”

“Maybe later, darling.”

“Geez,” Dean says, still watching as the woman straddles her companion in their booth. Their faces are hidden by the woman’s wavy, dirty blonde locks, but Dean can still hear the kissing from here. “They are _really_ going at it.”

“I can’t believe no one’s asked them to stop. They look like they’re seconds from having sex right in that booth.”

“You can’t be on a high horse about this, Cas, you gave me a hand job in a damn Taco Bell.”

“Yes, in the _bathroom,_ like a gentleman.”

“You know,” Dean says, snickering, “if you straightened that girl’s hair out, stuck a rifle in that guy’s hand, that could totally be Becky and Gadreel Hammond.”

“Bite your tongue,” Castiel says, visibly shuddering, “can you imagi—” Castiel freezes. “Oh, gracious.”

The woman is smiling and nodding at an uncomfortable looking waiter, and oh sweet fucking Hell, it _is_ Becky.

Becky Hammond, hostess of the bed and breakfast Dean almost fucking _died_ visiting. Becky Hammond, in the lap of her forty year-old stepson. Becky Fucking Hammond, who Dean still believes killed her husband’s first wife.

“Okay get the check,” Dean says, “we’re going.”

“It’s billed to the room, remember? And don’t you want to finish your food?”

Dean looks down at his meal. “What if they see us?”

“They would have to stop gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes for that to happen.”

Dean glances over. “Ugh, now I’m not even hungry. Do you really want to stay?”

“I think I’d be happier finishing this in bed with you.” Castiel gets the attention of a passing waiter, requesting to-go boxes for their meals.

Their food gets packed quickly, but just as they’re about to get up and go, Dean realizes there’s someone standing next to their table.

Two someones.

Gadreel looks as stiff and stoic as ever, but Becky is all smiles. “It _is_ you! I told Gadreel I’d seen my favorite guests, and he thought it was my imagination, but here you are!”

Favorite guests? Christ.

“Wonderful to see you Mrs. Hammond,” Castiel says. The liar. “And you, Gadreel.”

“Good evening, Mr. Novak,” Gadreel says.

Castiel smiles. “Winchester now. Or... once we file the paperwork.”

Becky hops up and down, clapping excitedly. “You two are married? Oh, this must be your honeymoon! I knew you two would last, not every man would risk his life the way you did,” Becky says, all but swooning at Dean.

And here Dean thought Castiel was her favorite. “Yeah, uh… just got married this weekend.”

“Oh, how exciting!”

“Are Marv and Hael nearby?” Castiel says.

Dean sure hopes not, considering what Becky and Gadreel were just doing.

“Oh… no, no,” Becky says, shaking her head sadly. “My dear Marv passed away over the summer.”

“Oh, I am _so_ sorry to hear that. I hope the family is holding up well.”

“Yes, everyone is doing well. Hael used her inheritance to move to San Diego, and she’s finally going back to culinary school! Marv would be so pleased.”

It’s rude, but Dean has to ask. He _has_ to. “May I ask… how did Marv uh… pass?”

“Heart attack,” Becky and Gadreel say in unison.

Yeah, that’s not alarming.

“Losing his mother at twenty, and now his father at just forty years old, Gadreel has been so strong,” Becky says. “Aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes, Stepmoth— Rebecca,” Gadreel says.

Becky smiles up at him, and he grins back. Seeing him smile is just as unnerving as it was the last time.

“It truly was a _great_ loss,” Becky says dramatically, sighing. “But as fate would have it, I found love again! Gadreel takes such good care of me, his father would be proud.”

Dean’s so grossed out. “Oh, so you two are…”

“Married! We really splurged on this honeymoon, but it’s been _such_ a hard year for the family. Luckily, we had the insurance money… it’s like a wedding gift from my dear Marv.”

Is Dean _dreaming_ this fucking conversation? “C… uh… congratulations, you two.”

Becky beams. “Oh, thank you! Well, we’d better get going, I booked a moonlight couples massage for later! This hotel has so many wonderful amenities, what room are you two staying in?”

“We’re in bungalow six,” Dean says, wincing when Castiel kicks him under the table. He deserves it, why did he _tell her_?

“How amazing! We’re in bungalow five!” Becky exclaims. Bungalow five. The bungalow with the loud, moaning woman. The loud, moaning Becky.

Dean wants to die.

“Well,” Becky says, “hopefully we’ll see you again, but Gadreel and I do have a very… _packed_ schedule.” Gross. “Have a good night, boys!”

They watch Becky and her StepHusbandSon leave, and then they look at each other.

“Are you in favor of pretending the past ten minutes didn’t happen?” Castiel says.

“ _God,_ yes.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**(Tuesday)**

  
  


  
  


They wake early on Tuesday, and while Dean packs things like extra clothes, sunscreen, lube, and portable phone chargers, Castiel dashes off to the hotel. The plan for today is to travel across the island to the town of Hana. It’s supposed to only take a handful of hours, but Dean knows Castiel intends to make stops and take pictures along the way.

Castiel comes back with two incredibly loud Hawaiian shirts, and a map of Maui.

“What do we need a map for?” Dean says, holding up his phone. “We’ve got all the info we need right here, man.”

“Just in case. Besides, it’s a _memento_. I was thinking of turning it into a sort of scrapbook… poster when we get home.”

Scrapbooking? Jesus, Sam is having a _terrible_ influence on Castiel. The poster idea sounds nice, though.

“I suppose one of those hideous shirts is for me to wear,” Dean says, eyeing the shirts in Castiel’s hands.

“They’re not hideous,” Castiel says, holding out a shirt covered in palm trees, hibiscus, and little ocean waves. Dean groans, putting it on over the black t-shirt he’s already wearing. Castiel puts on his own hideous shirt; a light blue one covered in bright pink flamingos.

“Are there even flamingos in Hawaii?” Dean grumbles.

Castiel shrugs. “I went for aesthetics over authenticity.”

“ _That_ appealed to your sense of aesthetics?”

Castiel nods. “Yes.”

  
  


*

  
  


They don’t eat much before heading out. Castiel has a banana from the pantry, while Dean has a granola bar. The plan is to have breakfast when they get to Paia in an hour or so, fill up the gas tank, and maybe grab some road snacks. They’re still kind of on Kansas time enough to not resent being up at five, so they’re in good spirits despite the early hour.

There aren’t many hotel guests out at this hour, and bungalow five is blissfully silent as Dean and Castiel head in the direction of the hotel, under the fading night sky. It’s close to six by the time Dean is starting up their rental car, anticipation simmering as he thinks of the day stretched out in front of them.

Castiel fiddles with the radio, smiling as the chatter of some Hawaiian morning show fills the car, then turning the volume down to a whisper.

“Alright,” Dean says, grinning, “time to _experience_ Maui.”

  
  


*

  
  


The start of the journey is fairly quiet. There’s so much to see, so much _color._ They coast along the north-western edge of Maui, past miles of resorts and golf courses. They gape at African tulip trees, monkey pod behemoths, and flowering hibiscus hedges, and they gasp every time the Pacific Ocean comes into view.

Eventually they reach the town of Paia, and Dean heads straight to Charley’s Restaurant. They wolf down satisfying plates of huevos rancheros, taking in the mix of tourists and locals carbing up for the day. They fill the gas tank over at the Shell station, pick up some food in case they get hungry in the car, and by eight they’re rolling along the Hana Highway.

“What do you suppose everyone is doing back home right now?” Castiel says, staring out the window.

“Homesick already, baby?”

“Hardly. Just musing.”

“Well… it’s what, two in Kansas? Right? Maybe one? That dance studio down the street from your bakery is probably letting out from one of their classes, and that cranky teacher… what’s her name?”

“Ruby. She’s not cranky, she’s just rough around the edges.”

“Well, Ruby will be showing up at the bakery soon, saying it’s her cheat day, even though she has like three cheat days a week. Over at the garage, Ash is probably coming back from lunch, all disoriented because he decided to take a quick nap and no one woke him up when his break was over. Sammy’s still on antibiotics, so he’s probably at home playing with Ezekiel and his cats.”

“Hmmm… sounds about right.”

“Sure you’re not homesick?”

“Can’t be, you’re right here with me.”

Dean smirks. “Fucking sap.”

The road takes them through rural areas lined with guava and palm trees, fruit stands and smiling locals. They pass the Koolau Forest Reserve, and the lands surrounding the road become even more lush, with fewer stretches of unwatered grass, and more cliffs that the road cuts through, zigging and zagging along the highway.

They have no set plan, really. They’d heard the drive across Maui was beautiful, and so they’re driving across Maui. Maybe they’ll check things out along the way, maybe they’ll just drive to Hana and back. The point is to drive.

They do decide to stop though, as they go through turn after turn on the winding road, passing a number of waterfalls along the way, they come across a forest of waving bamboo. Dean pulls over so that they can take photos of the bamboo and a few of themselves, and is _horrified_ when Castiel brings out a selfie stick he apparently purchased back at the hotel, but they use it anyway.

The biggest downside to the drive isn’t the many, many, _many_ turns, but the congestion. There are spots where the road is just one lane, packed to the brim with cars, and Dean thinks about the fact that it’s the most beautiful traffic jam he’s ever been in.

They pull over at Kaumahina State Wayside Park so they can take photos and pee, then they continue down the winding highway to the Keanae Arboretum. It’s humid and bright and beautiful as they walk hand in hand, paying little mind to the other tourists occupying the same area. Castiel oohs and aahs over the rainbow eucalyptus grove. Okay, Dean oohs and aahs too. The trees are tall and slender, and they look like someone attacked them with paint brushes, Dean’s never seen anything like them. Castiel describes the process which causes the myriad of oranges and greens Dean’s seeing, but Dean doesn’t really absorb the information, too captivated by the streaks of color he never would have expected on naturally occurring tree bark.

When their walk is over they spend a few minutes in the car, resting their eyes and snacking on beef jerky while the air conditioner does its job.

“Gotta say, after walking around out in nature or whatever, I’m looking foward to showering tonight. And sleeping,” Dean says.

“We can head back now, if you’d like?”

“Dude, we’re just getting started.”

Castiel smiles and yawns, popping his back. “Wonderful.”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


They’re not back on the road all that long when Dean gives into the urge to stop at a roadside stand. This one sells fruit, crepes, and smoothies, and Dean and Castiel spend a few minutes drinking mango lychee smoothies while the stand’s owner gushes about what a cute couple they make. Castiel is so flattered he buys a basket of ‘Hawaii mountain apples’, even though the pantry at the bungalow has plenty of fruit.

“These taste… different,” Dean says, biting into one of the bell-shaped fruits, “are they really apples?”

“Ohi'a 'ai are from a different botanical family entirely,” Castiel says.

“Man, this is so fucking _fresh_ too, you know? I should eat more fresh fruit.”

“I need to take you to a farmer’s market when we get home. Lots of flavorful, fresh produce.”

“Better than that fancy natural grocery we go to sometimes?”

“Some of it. I always assumed you wouldn’t want to go to a farmer’s market, but… we’re married now.”

“What, that means I have to do whatever you say?”

Castiel just smirks.

  
  


*

  
  


They stop at a few more parks, pull over to gawk at a few more waterfalls, and before they know it, it’s after three and they’re pulling into the little coastal town of Hana. They head to the Hana Cultural Center and Museum first, because according to Castiel’s guidebook it’s due to close within the hour. They browse the selection of Hawaiian quilts, artifacts, and photos in the museum with interest. There’s a display showing early Hawaiian fishing tools, and a depressing section detailing a tsunami that hit the town seventy years ago. Outside they walk through a replica of a traditional Hawaiian living complex, four thatched hale buildings, each with their own purpose. It’s peaceful, and even though there are people talking nearby, this part of the town feels quiet and still.

After buying some locally made greeting cards at the museum’s gift shop, they head to a nearby hotel for dinner, dining on expensive but delicious plates of fresh-caught ahi and coconut-jasmine rice prepared by the chefs of Travaasa Hana. There’s joyful live music, and after over an hour in the relaxing, open atmosphere of the restaurant, they’re ready to head back to their bungalow, bellies full and spirits high.

The road is emptier on the way back, and the lack of congestion makes for a swifter journey back to West Maui, though it’s still well after eleven when they get back to their bungalow.

“Jesus,” Dean says, peeling out of his clothes while Castiel stores his mountain apples and other souvenirs. “Tomorrow we’re just staying in bed all day, alright?”

“Sounds good,” Castiel calls from the other room.

Dean flops over in bed, way too tired to shower. “But after that, I’ll be rested and ready for more super cool activities and driving, I promise.”

“Good,” Castiel says, pulling his shirt off as he enters the room. “I’d love to see a hula demonstration somewhere on the island.”

Dean’s thoughts grind to a halt as an image comes to him; Castiel in a bright green grass skirt, a circlet of hibiscus and plumeria resting on his head, dancing and swaying on a fire-lit beach while Dean plucks at a ukelele.

“You’re thinking about hula girls, aren’t you.”

“Nope. You in a grass skirt.”

“You know, modern and traditional hula often involve billowy, brightly dyed skirts and dresses, with green lei adornments on the wrists and head, not always skimpy grass skirts and coconut bras.”

“Pretty sure you’d look good in that too,” Dean says, adjusting his mental image accordingly.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**(Saturday)**

  
  


  
  


What was supposed to be one day of lazing about easily turns into __more. They spend their time devouring fresh fruit from the pantry and meals from the hotel, lying around under their parasol on the beach, splashing about in the ocean, and having as many orgasms as nature will allow before they run out of lube trying out the double-ended dildo again. Dean’s relaxed in some parts of his body, deliciously sore in others, and loving every second of this vacation.

His phone is filling with photos of them on the beach, pictures of Castiel eating strawberries naked, and whatever flowers and trees he can spot around their bungalow and the hotel.

He’d love to spend more time on the bungalow’s deck, but it seems like every time they go out there, their ears are assaulted with the sound of Becky Hammond having sex. At least they can’t hear her at the beach, or when they’re inside. Dean’s not about to let the worst coincidence _ever_ ruin his damn honeymoon.

On Saturday they resolve to get out and see more of the island, and buy more lube.

They start the day with breakfast at Lahaina Coolers, enjoying steak and eggs and macadamia nut pancakes. Dean is wearing his cargo shorts and Castiel’s blue flamingo shirt, while Castiel is wearing khaki shorts and what looks like some sort of beige tunic that Dean’s never seen before. They’re in sunglasses and flip-flops; tourist gear for sure, but Dean’s finally ready to embrace being a tourist.

After breakfast they check out The Banyan Tree in Courthouse Square in Lahaina; a spreading banyan tree so big they can’t even get a proper picture of the whole thing. It’s an incredible sight, Dean’s never seen anything like it. The long, sprawling branches have dropped roots in various places, which eventually became their own trunks, supporting the winding twisting network of branches. There’s a lot of damage to the trunk from visitors who felt compelled to carve their names into the bark, but it’s still a beautiful tree.

Castiel takes dozens and dozens of photos of the tree, which stands at well over sixty feet tall. He also photographs some of the locals selling paintings, jewelry, and knickknacks around the tree for the area’s semi-monthly art fair, and chats with the artists. He buys a few bracelets and trinkets from a vendor, delighted when she tells him about a hula show slated for this evening at Kamaole Beach.

After the tree, they head to Wo Hing Temple, a restored Chinese temple brimming with interesting artifacts and displays showing the history of Chinese immigrants in the Lahaina area. Castiel seems determined to _learn_ on this vacation, but Dean’s content to just… look.

The next stop is Maui Ocean Center. It’s about fifty dollars and a _long_ line to get them both in, but it’s worth it. Holy shit, it’s worth it. Dean hasn’t been to an aquarium since he was a kid, and _everything_ is fascinating; from the urchins and coral, to the touch pool where Dean touches a starfish for the first time, to the turtle pool. The squishy starfish and stoic turtles have nothing on the main tank, though.

It’s a fifty-four foot tunnel leading through seven hundred fifty _thousand_ gallons of water, which is filled with an array of fish ranging from angelfish to stingrays to fucking _sharks._ Gray reef sharks, hammerhead sharks, tiger sharks, and they’re right fucking there. Dean spends a long time watching the aquarium from various angles, spellbound by the myriad of creatures. This is awesome. Maybe Dean can get Castiel to come back with him before the trip ends.

Eventually Dean gets hungry, and after dropping _far_ too much money on shark merchandise at the gift shop, Dean and Castiel leave for lunch. They end up at Cafe O’Lei Kihei, gorging on the restaurant’s seared ahi sandwiches. Castiel smiles brightly while Dean talks excitedly about sharks, and Dean’s too keyed up to feel embarrassed.

There’s still a great deal of time left before the hula demonstration, so they fill up the car with gas and drive up to the Haleakala Summit, knowing they’ll have to turn right back around when they get there if they want to be on time. According to Castiel, they’re on one of the fastest ascending roads in the world. The road twists and weaves past red dirt, intrepid bicyclists, and a few plants Dean hasn’t seen yet on the island. It’s actually pretty barren looking, so at odds with the thriving, vibrant plant life they saw on their way to Hana.

They ascend, higher and higher, so high Dean’s pretty sure he’s driven _through_ the clouds he saw earlier in the drive. According to Castiel, this is a volcano, which is a little hard for Dean to wrap his mind around. On some level he understands that many volcanos don’t look like the drawings Dean made in his youth, all steep, dark slopes leading to a crater filled to the brim with boiling magma like a rocky cauldron, but he’s still surprised by how ordinary it looks.

“So, this is really a volcano?” he says, eyeing the barren landscape with mistrust.

“Not in the sense you’re probably thinking, but yes. The last eruption was over two hundred years ago. Many consider this volcano to be dormant.”

“What would happen if it erupted?”

“We wouldn’t be anywhere near it. There are signals, tremors, that tend to take place weeks, even months in advance, we wouldn’t be coming here if it had been showing ominous signs of activity.”

“What if it erupted _suddenly,_ though?”

Castiel sighs. “In that case, I suppose we would die from inhaling copious amounts of hot ash, Dean.”

They pass the first overlook, then the second, then finally reach the third, Pu’u Ula’ula Summit, the highest part of the volcano. Dean pulls in to park, and they get out. The first thing Dean notices is it’s _colder_ than he was expecting. It’s got to be sixty degrees out here, maybe less, which Dean wasn’t expecting and definitely didn’t dress for.

Dean’s a little lightheaded from the altitude, and he’s too afraid of heights to actually look out below, but he’s powering through. Castiel is determined to not let fear get in his way, though, and he takes dozens of photos of the rather desolate looking red hill, even brandishing that god damn selfie stick at one point. They don’t spend much time at the summit, since they have to get back out to Kamaole Beach, but considering Dean’s cold and nauseous, he’s okay with leaving. They make one more stop at Castiel’s insistence, at the nearby Kalahaku Overlook. There’s an impressive view of the Haleakala Crater floor, according to Castiel, but Dean isn’t looking. It’s just as cool out here, so Castiel moves quickly, dragging Dean over to a greyish-greenish spiny plant not too far from where they’ve parked. Castiel fawns over the plant, taking more photos, futzing about with the macro settings on his phone’s camera. Dean doesn’t really get why they’re exciting, but at least Castiel is pleased.

“That one’s pretty,” Dean says, pointing to a similar plant that has the same spiny leaves, but also a tall stalk growing from the center, covered in purple-maroon blooms that put Dean oddly in mind of sunflowers.

Castiel follows Dean’s line of sight then gasps, all but knocking Dean out of his way as he rushes over to photograph the flowers. The stalk is almost as tall as Castiel.

“You’re really into this, huh?” Dean says, following behind.

“I’m not, but… these flowers are _very_ rare, Dean. Especially in bloom!” Castiel carefully circles the plant as he takes his photos. “The silversword only grows in Hawaii, and only in a few places. They can take anywhere from four, to ten, to _fifty_ years to bloom, and when they do, it’s only during the summer months. After blooming, the plant dies and goes to seed. These blooms could be fifty years in the making,” Castiel says reverently.

Dean reaches out to touch one of the blooms, yelping when Castiel slaps his hand.

“Sorry,” Castiel says, “but these flowers are rare, and sensitive, and you shouldn’t touch them.”

“Jeez, you’re strict, _Dad._ ”

Castiel grimaces. “I know I don’t say this word very often, but… _ew,_ Dean.”

Dean snickers and snaps a few pictures of Castiel taking his photos.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


After coming back down from the mountain they stop for a bite to eat at Shaka Sandwich and Pizza, and split a large ham and cheese hoagie while Castiel thumbs through his phone to delete blurry photos, then they head down to Kamaole Beach.

The recital is… incredible. Dean understands exactly zero of what’s being chanted, he has no idea what the careful, graceful, synchronized movements are meant to convey, but that doesn’t make the dance any less riveting. There are ten women of different ages and sizes dancing, each wearing a billowy red strapless top, and a bright orange flowing skirt, with leis made of spiny green leaves around their wrists, ankles, and atop their heads. They dance to a steady beat and the musical chanting coming from the women drumming on gourds off to the side.

Castiel takes a few photos near the start, but mostly he’s content to watch the performance.

There are cheers and applause as the demonstration ends. Castiel jumps to his feet to clap, and Dean smiles when he sees a little girl, probably another tourist, trying to mimic the moves to her parents. One of the dancers comes over to help the girl with the gestures, and the child smiles so brightly that Dean lets out a squeaky little whimper.

Castiel nudges Dean. “Did I just hear the sound of your biological clock ticking?”

“ _No,_ dick.”

“You know, we _could_ look into adoption when we get back,” Castiel offers as they start walking to the parking lot.

“We got married _a week ago,_ Cas.”

“I know, but it can take years for that process to work itself out.”

Dean frowns. “True… but I still say we give it some time.”

“How many kids do you want?”

“Two? Definitely not _eight,_ no offense to your mom.”

“I like two.”

“Maybe down the road, when we’re waiting for our hypothetical adoption to go through, we can have a threeway with Jo, see who knocks her up.”

There’s a loud clang, and Castiel starts cursing. Dean looks over, grinning when he sees that Castiel walked into a garbage can.

“She offered to be a _surrogate,_ not use her _own_ eggs,” Castiel says, rubbing at his knee before he starts walking again.

“Okay wow, I thought you’d have more objections to the threeway part.”

“Obviously I’m not going to have sex with _Jo_ , Dean.”

“It’s _way_ cheaper than implanting fertilized eggs, I’m just saying.”

“It would be like having sex with my husband and his _sister._ ”

“I’d say she’s more like a cousin.”

“I’m gay, and you’re sick.”

“Maybe we could do a turkey baster thing.”

“I’m going to text Jo with everything you just said.”

Dean laughs as they reach the rental car, but when he turns around, Castiel really is holding his phone. “Dude, no. _No._ She’ll kill me.”

“I’m aware,” Castiel says, fingers moving away on his phone.

“We’re married now, Cas! You have to keep my secrets!”

Castiel smiles. “I don’t remember that being part of our vows, sorry.”

They’re not even buckled into the car before Dean’s getting a text from Jo that reads “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU” and then a bunch of empty boxes because Dean doesn’t have emojis installed on his phone. He’s sure they’re scathing emojis, though.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


Not long after they return to the bungalow, Castiel is sprawled out on his stomach, moaning into the large bed while Dean opens him up with fingers, tongue, and an overpriced bottle of lube from the gas station.

“Remember that first room we fucked in, Cas?” Dean says.

Castiel snorts, then moans softly when Dean twists his fingers. “You realize that was less than two years ago, how could I forget?”

“Wow… less than two years.”

Dean forgets that a lot, actually. Sometimes he’ll learn something new about Castiel and find himself shocked that he didn’t already know the age Castiel lost his first tooth, or what Castiel’s favorite type of muffin is. Sometimes it feels like Dean’s loved Castiel all his life, instead of for two years and some change. Things moved fast, they’ve been engaged for half the time Dean’s known him, and yet it feels like they slowly simmered for eons. It was like that for Dean’s parents too, though, and… and now Dean’s thinking about his _parents_ while he fingers Castiel open. Time to focus on more pressing matters.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**(Monday)**

  
  


  
  


After a Sunday spent completely naked and sweaty, Dean and Castiel emerge from the bungalow on Monday, ready for breakfast. There’s a package in front of their door. It’s soft, light, and has “TO THE WINCHESTERS” scrawled across the hibiscus print wrapping. Dean opens the package carefully, nearly dropping it when he sees what’s inside.

Dolls.

Of them.

Made of yarn.

There’s a note as well.

  
  


_Sorry we didn’t have a chance to catch up again before we headed home, but you know how newlyweds are! Hope you like the dolls, please stop by Hammond House again some day, the Hammond Room misses you!_

— _Becky Hammond-Hammond_

  
  


Dean reads the note aloud, then looks at where Castiel is frowning down at the dolls in his hand.

“I can’t believe she signed this ‘Becky Hammond-Hammond’,” Dean says.

“This is a sweet gesture, I suppose,” Castiel says, still frowning.

“They’re creepy,” Dean says, glaring at their little black yarn eyes.

“You didn’t think the action figures of us were creepy.”

“Those were a gift from _you,_ and they didn’t have incest cooties.”

“I don’t think their relationship is technically incest…”

“ _Cas._ ”

“I just don’t think the dolls are inherently creepy.”

“Then why are you making that face?”

“Because I’m creeped out anyway.”

“Well, maybe that’s because yarn dolls made by murderers are creepy.”

“You think she gave Marv a heart attack?”

“I don’t know. But she _definitely_ pushed Muriel Hammond down those stairs, man.”

“Maybe we can find a pit of magma to drop these in.”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


They have breakfast at Duke’s Beach House, a beachside restaurant north of their resort. It’s a downright _lovely_ restaurant, with outdoor tables beneath thatched parasols, a great view of the ocean, and tons of vibrant plants. They eat kalua pork hash and sweet french toast, and Dean unsuccessfully attempts to talk Castiel into ordering the Hula Pie, which has a chocolate cookie crust, macadamia nut ice cream, hot fudge, toasted mac nuts, and is topped with whipped cream.

“You can’t have pie for breakfast, Dean.”

“With. It would be _with_ breakfast.”

“No.”

  
  


*

  
  


Their next stop is The Shops at Wailea. It’s a fairly upscale mall, and although they spend nearly ninety minutes browsing, they don’t really find anything they want, other than several Hawaiian shirts Dean can’t imagine actually wearing at home.

They spend a lot of time just driving around. If this were Lawrence, driving around aimlessly would probably feel boring, or like a waste of time even in the Impala, but everything here is so _different._ Castiel even takes a rare turn driving so that Dean can spend some quality time gawking out the window at the vibrant landscape without having to focus on the road.

Eventually they end up at a bakery, browsing a sweet smelling array of pastries. The man behind the register is friendly, telling them they’re lucky to arrive before all the cream puffs are sold out. For all Dean knows this guy says that to _every_ customer, but he still buys the last four puffs. Castiel chats with the owner about Hawaiian desserts, and what ones might do well at his shop back in Lawrence, while Dean loads a basket up with packages of cookies, nuts, and candies. He’s not sure if he’s planning to give them to people as souvenirs or eat them all himself, but he can figure that out later.

By the time Dean’s done shopping, the owner is giving Castiel two recipes for desserts to try selling back home, while Castiel thanks him excitedly. Dean plops his basket onto the counter, and Castiel stares at the impressive pile of items.

“I see you’ve abandoned your reluctance to spend my mother’s money,” Castiel says.

Dean grins. “Aren’t you glad we brought an extra suitcase?”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


After the bakery they head back to West Maui for a sunset cruise booked by Castiel. Dean’s not a _huge_ fan of open water, but what the hell. They dine on spicy citrus rotisserie chicken, caesar salad, and delicious french bread with a garlic herb butter that curls Dean’s toes. They drink champagne and Mai Tais, and take a few dozen photos, even a few with the damn selfie stick, then they relax against the railing of the catamaran, drinking in the breathtaking array of colors as the sun dips below the horizon, with their fingers laced between them.

Dean can’t believe he has this moment. His beautiful husband staring spellbound at the sunset, the promise of expanding their family sometime in the future, upwards of five pounds of macadamia nuts in the trunk of his rental car.

And to think, he owes it all to chlamydia.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


Most of the time, Dean would say he and Castiel have sex. Often they fuck. But making love, like they’re doing right now, that’s a little more rare. Castiel looms over Dean, rocking into him with slow, easy rolls of his hips. Dean’s ass is propped up on a few pillows, legs around Castiel’s waist, arms around Castiel’s neck. There are tears in Dean’s eyes, and he has no idea if they’re from the intense emotions he’s feeling, or from being so caught in Castiel’s gaze that he’s not even blinking.

“I love you,” Castiel says, one hand gliding along Dean’s chest to toy with a nipple.

“I have loved you, and I will love you,” Dean pants. “Until the end of this hour, the end of this day, the end of this life, and whatever comes after.”

They kiss again, and again, and Dean never wants to stop.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**(Tuesday)**

  
  


  
  


“Here we are,” Dean says, munching on his omelette, “last full day in Hawaii.”

“It’s gone by so quickly, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah… been fucking awesome, though.”

Castiel sighs happily. “It has.”

“Anything special you wanna do?”

“Not really… the beach? Or… we could go back to the aquarium,” Castiel says, smiling.

Dean grins. “Yeah? Cool, maybe I’ll find more shark stuff in the gift stop.”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


They make their way to Maui Ocean Center again, and although Dean’s eager to get to the sharks, they still visit the other spots first. The big tank is just as amazing as it was the first time, and Dean spends nearly an hour marveling at everything. Castiel takes several photos of Dean gawking at the tank, and Dean hopes he doesn’t look too much like a slack-jawed dope.

Dean spends a bunch of money on stuff in the gift shop, grinning at Castiel’s raised eyebrows. “I figure we should spend it all before we go, so I’ll feel like it’s all part of the gift?”

Castiel leans forward to kiss Dean’s cheek. “Whatever works for you, beloved.”

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


  
  


“So,” Castiel says as they drive away from the aquarium, “you’re really into sharks.”

“They’re _cool,_ Cas.”

“Of course they are. Maybe I should make you a shark shaped birthday cake next year,” Castiel says, snickering.

“I know you’re teasing me, but I would _love_ that, so joke’s on you.”

“Noted.”

  
  


*

  
  


After a stop at a gas station and a small, shared meal of miso cod for lunch at Ichiban Okazuya, Dean drives them through the Iao Valley, spirits high. It’s another breathtaking drive as they start seeing fewer homes and fruit stands and more trees. Eventually they park at the Iao Valley State Park entrance and make their way to one of the hiking trails that leads to a scenic overlook with a view of the area and the Iao Needle, a mossy green monolith jutting proudly from within the valley. There’s a creeping sense of panic Dean’s trying to ignore. Scenic overlooks are high.

“It’s very…” Dean trails off, staring at the tall, imposing peak.

Castiel looks over from where he’s taking a photo. “Phallic?”

“Kinda.”

“It’s beautiful, though.”

“Yeah? It getting you in the mood?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you out here, this is a frequently traveled area.”

“Yeah, don’t want to piss people off and cap off our honeymoon by getting deported.”

“Deported…” Castiel looks at Dean again, narrowing his eyes. “You understand that Hawaii is part of the United States… right?”

“ _Yes._ Shut up. It’s a figure of speech,” Dean says, blushing.

Castiel just smiles pleasantly and gets his selfie stick ready.

  
  


*

  
  


After a stop at the picturesque Kepaniwai Heritage Gardens, they leave the Iao Valley area and head to the Alexander and Baldwin Sugar Museum. In an interesting and informative tour that Dean will likely forget the instant he leaves Maui, he and Castiel learn all about how sugar is grown, harvested, and milled. They learn about immigrants from all over coming to Maui to harvest sugar cane, and the men that ran the plantations and worked to obtain water rights from Hawaii’s long ago king. They buy trinkets and premium raw sugar at the gift shop, then they head back to West Maui. Castiel made reservations at some fancy place for dinner, and he wants to shower and change first, in case they’re maybe a bit sweaty or dirty from meandering about in Iao Valley.

They have a while before dinner, though, so they take an extra-long shower. Dean fucks Castiel into the wall, smirking at Castiel’s high, desperate moans, and the way his fingers scrabble for purchase against the tile.

Once they’re clean and dressed, they go to The Feast at Lele, a one-hundred-thirty-dollar-apiece five course meal at candlelit tables that includes what’s supposed to be quite a show. It’s a bit crowded, but everyone there is in a good mood. Dean and Castiel enjoy themselves as they dine on foods from Hawaii, New Zealand, Tahiti, and Samoa. There’s roasted pork, sous vide salmon, braised short ribs, grilled mango chicken, hibiscus red velvet cake, and so much more in between. Each course brings a change of music and dance, and while Dean and Castiel fill up on their variety of Polynesian delights, they feast their eyes on Hawaiian hula performances, Maori war dances, sensual Tahitian movements, and an intense Samoan fire dance. They eat and drink _well_ as the experience continues through dusk, and then it’s back to the resort to rest.

Their minds are awake and stimulated after a show so bursting with color and energy, but their bellies are full of incredible food, which has them sluggish. They opt to spend the rest of their evening on the bungalow’s deck, _finally_ enjoying it without having to hear Becky Hammond’s shrieks of ecstasy.

They stare up at the night sky, listening to the waves in the distance, hands linked between their lounge chairs.

“Should we have more sex?” Dean says, eyes still on the stars above.

Castiel snorts. “Not if I have to move to make it happen.”

“Yeah… but… you know. Last night in Hawaii.”

“We have our shower orgasms to get us through the night, that will have to be enough.”

“Mmhm. _Fuck,_ that was good food, though.”

“Just think, twenty years from now, when we’re older and striving to keep our marriage sizzling, I can cook a large Polynesian feast for you so that we can recapture the magic of our honeymoon.”

“With you in a grass skirt?”

Castiel chuckles, squeezing Dean’s hand. “And a coconut bra.”

“Sounds good to me.”

  
  


*

  
  


“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“You’d better not make me wait twenty _years_ for my personal luau.”

“I’ll see what I can do, beloved.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**(Wednesday)**

  
  


  
  


As much as Dean would love to go to Maui Ocean Center one last time, or maybe grab some cream puffs from that bakery in Makawao, they don’t really have the time for more than breakfast at the hotel. Castiel wanders around the bungalow, taking more photos while Dean packs their belongings and triple checks to make sure that yes, he has everything, yes he remembered to leave a tip for housekeeping, yes he packed his sedatives in his carry-on and not in their suitcases.

Eventually, there’s nothing left to do but leave.

“Damn,” Dean says, looking around, “I’m going to miss this place.”

“I’ll miss it too,” Castiel says, kissing Dean’s cheek.

“At least we have lots of things to remember it by.”

“Some of those souvenirs are for the family, Dean.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

  
  


*

  
  


They leave Coral Sandtree Resort, and drink in the sights as they make one last drive through Maui, out to Kahului Airport. They return their rental car, go through TSA, boarding, and then they’re in their seats while the plane readies for take-off.

Dean takes one of his tranquilizers, smiling at Castiel as he washes it down with an overpriced bottle of water from the duty-free shop.

“I have extra, if you want.”

“I’ll be fine. Have a nice trip.”

Dean snickers. “I’m sure I will.”

  
  


*

  
  


Dean spends the bulk of the plane ride high, playing with the creepy yarn dolls Becky gave them and probably annoying the shit out of everyone nearby.

  
  


*

  
  


It’s late when Naomi’s driver drops them off at the house in Lawrence. It’s only afternoon in Hawaii, but here… it’s late. They’ve also been traveling all day, so Dean’s body can’t seem to decide if it’s actually tired or not. They lug their bags to the house, both maybe a little bit blue. They’re both still off work until Monday, but the exciting vacation portion is over; a little mourning is probably to be expected.

Sam and Jess will be by tomorrow with Ezekiel, but for tonight it’s just Dean and Castiel… and the huge pile of wedding gifts in their living room.

“I forgot about the gifts,” Castiel says, closing the front door behind him.

Dean’s mostly just relieved that Naomi didn’t rearrange their living room while they were gone. “Are there _more_ than there were before?”

“Maybe, it—” Castiel pauses, then starts laughing hard.

Dean’s baffled. “Dude, what?”

“Under the bed,” Castiel says, shoulders shaking, “in the bungalow. Our gift.”

“What do you—”

Oh, sweet merciful Jesus, they left their gift from Balthazar in Maui. “ _Noooo_ ,” Dean groans, face in his hands. “Should we… call the resort?”

“And ask about the large, purple double-ended dildo? I’m sure they’ll find it and send it to us.”

Dean nods. “Yeah, that’s a phone conversation I’m not interested in having.”

The gifts can wait, Dean mostly just wants to crawl into bed with Castiel and sleep, maybe watch some Food Network first. They bring their bags to their room, but don’t bother unpacking. Instead they both start shedding clothing, then crawl into bed in their underwear.

They relax, smiling at one another. After a minute passes, a thought dawns on Dean.

“Your mom paid for the room,” he says.

“Yes.”

“So… _her_ information is on file at the resort.”

“Yes?”

“So… if they found something in our room… would they send it to her?”

Castiel practically teleports out of the bed to get to his phone.

  
  


*

  
  


After Castiel makes what sounds like a _very_ uncomfortable phone call to the resort, they cuddle in their familiar bed, under their familiar bedspread, heads resting on their familiar pillows, curled towards each other like parentheses.

“So… what’s next?” Dean says.

“Well, tomorrow Sam and Jess will bring Ezekiel home.”

“Good, I miss that fuckin’ thing.”

“I honestly have no idea if you mean Ezekiel or your brother.”

“Either works. What else?”

“We have unpacking to do, a pile of wedding gifts to open, thank you notes to write.”

“Maybe I can open the gifts while you write the notes,” Dean says, smirking.

“That’s not how this is going to work.”

“It isn’t, huh?”

“You’re not calling _all_ the shots, Winchester.”

“Says who, Novak? Oh, wait…” Dean sighs happily, pulling Castiel in close as warmth swells in his chest. “I forgot, you’re gonna be a Winchester too. Well, there’s something else we can work on this week,” he says, giving Castiel a squeeze. “Oh! And we can see which pictures we’re gonna print out for your scrapbook.... map… thing.”

“Look at you, getting excited about scrapbooking.”

“What can I say? The island changed me, Cas.”

There’s this saying Dean’s heard a million times on TV and in movies. “The honeymoon’s over.” When all the bright and happy newness wears off, and people are left with… reality. Their new normal. Dean thought he’d feel that way, especially considering he felt a little down as they got home. But really, there’s still excitement. They’re married, and there’s so much more to come. Children hopefully at some point, maybe more vacations to beautiful places, anniversaries, years spent learning all the things they’ve yet to learn about each other. No point in being sad that the trip is over when there’s so much still on the horizon, in this life, and whatever comes after.

“What are you smiling about?” Castiel says, thumb stroking Dean’s jaw.

“Honeymoon’s over.”

“It is.”

“I can’t wait to see what comes next.”

Castiel grins, wide and heartbreaking before crawling on top of Dean to kiss him soundly. “Neither can I, beloved.”

  
  


***END***

 

**Author's Note:**

> Everything but the resort exists in Maui… according to my time-consuming but shaky research.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! SOOOO excited to post this. :)))


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